


Take me to the lakes

by Ludicrous



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26209675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ludicrous/pseuds/Ludicrous
Summary: The black car sped along the road, swift as a shadow. Contrary to popular belief, Mycroft knew how to drive. He rarely took the wheel - only once a year.This was written for the prompt "I told you not to fall in love with me" from @mystradepromptsandscenarios
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 15
Kudos: 47





	Take me to the lakes

**Author's Note:**

> (Please check the end notes for trigger warnings)

The black car sped along the road, swift as a shadow. Contrary to popular belief, Mycroft knew how to drive. He rarely took the wheel - only once a year.

The sun had already set, otherwise, Mycroft could have admired the beauty of the last days of summer. The trees dotting the road were already revealing their colours, a panoply of reds and yellows. 

Mycroft looked out the windshield and saw only the road. The destination.

He sped on.

The vehicle was deathly quiet. The first years, Mycroft would turn his head and expect _him_ to be there, his golden features shining with love.

He never was.

This time, the foolish hope had been extinguished. Mycroft didn't know whether that was good or bad. He supposed it was neither, as most things were.

Mycroft parked in his usual place in front of the lake. His hands were steady where they gripped his loyal umbrella. His pace was measured, neither hasty nor hesitant.

The children had scurried home a long time ago, running around in their soaked clothes. Their laughter had filled the place with old echoes of joy.

A man stood tall at the edge of the lake, a lonely traveller returned home. The lake whispered back to him.

_I told you not to fall in love with me, didn't I? Told you it would hurt like hell._

Mycroft was a creature of logic. He did not collapse under the force of _memories_. If he hunched his shoulders, it was to fight off the cold.

_But you're a stubborn one, I know._

Mycroft exhaled shakily. His hands spasmed against the wooden handle of his umbrella. A drizzling rain had started to cascade down his coat. It washed away the product in his hair. Yet Mycroft did not move or give any indication that he felt the cold drops seeping through his clothes.

If he closed his eyes, he would see the brown eyes he had so loved. _Loved and lost_. They would rest on his face and Mycroft would know himself to be safe, saved in _his_ gaze...

Mycroft kept his eyes wide open. He did not dare even to blink.

_Darlin'? Look at me, darlin'._

Mycroft lowered himself to the ground. _Slowly_ , a column of sand collapsing under the force of a wave. His heart ached with all the words he could not bear to say.

The water reflected his expression back at him. His eyes lined with red, his hair in disarray. He could no longer bring himself to shave. The beard hid the pallor of his skin.

A phantom breath hit his cheek, as gentle as a kiss.

_I miss you._

Mycroft brought his hands up, a prayer of sorts. A strangled, animal sound escaped his throat. 

His pristine nails had dug into the earth and were now a wreck - he suspected his linen suit was also ruined. Mycroft knew that he should stand, that he should be bothered by the dirt seeping under his clothes, under his skin.

All he could focus on was the ring, glinting in the moonlight. Its twin was at the bottom of this lake, forever lost.

_It's time, now._

It took several tries for the ring to slid off his finger. It had rested at the same place for years, undisturbed. It was now living its last journey - up in the air then down, down, to the bottom of the lake.

"I love you" Mycroft rasped. The words came from very far away.

He waited in silence for an answer. A gush of wind carried the umbrella into its wake - they danced in the air, all grace and dream before the umbrella clattered to the ground.

Ash, ash in his lungs. Mycroft staggered above the water - a part of him longing to drown, water filling his insides and making him feel _alive_ for the first time, for the last time-

A touch as light as a feather hovered over his shoulder. Mycroft held his breath, hoping, _hoping_...

"Time to go home, brother."

In the morning, the children would find a broken umbrella - their parents would warn them off these sharp edges. They’d splash around in the water, their feet never touching the two rings abandoned in the sand. 

At dusk, the lake would whisper to itself ancient tales of love and loss.

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for major character death referenced, lack of happy ending and thoughts of suicide  
> The title comes from The Lakes by Taylor Swift. I also listened to Ghosts and Both Sides Now, if anyone is interested.


End file.
